


Hollow

by willneverbeordinary



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Holding Hands, Hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 03:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willneverbeordinary/pseuds/willneverbeordinary
Summary: The fear that he may just be incapable of feeling love overwhelms Rhett. Along with the fear that his wife is going to leave him once therapy helps her figure out that her life would be so much better without him. And there's the horrible feeling that the life they've built together is some compromise that is only making them both miserable.Worst of all - what if he does love, but just not her?





	Hollow

There's an emptiness yet a horrible weight inside Rhett's chest. A crushing black hole. His center of gravity has shifted, it seems, and he lets himself sink down to the floor. Props his head against the arm of the office couch and goes still. There's a pressure at the middle of his chest and he tries to swallow down air that just sticks in his throat and doesn't reach his lungs and maybe he'll suffocate and there's the fleeting thought that it wouldn't matter.

He doesn't move when the door opens.

“What– are you o– did something happen? Is someone hurt? Sick?” Link almost throws the door shut as he hurries over.

Rhett shakes his head.

“Are you hurt?” Link crouches down beside Rhett.

Rhett shrugs. There are words. And thoughts. But they are far away and unclear and so so heavy when he tries to lift them to the surface.

Link claps his shoulder. Squeezes. “Is it me? Us? The business?”

“No,” Rhett manages to dredges up from the murky depths inside.

He lets his head loll to the side, looks up at Link. Link's brow is furrowed. Lines of worry drawn onto his face. Frustration etched around his eyes and his mouth.

Rhett sighs.

“Jessie?” Link's voice is quiet, as if he already knows how that simple arrangement of letters and sounds are shards and thorns and jagged pieces across Rhett's heart.

Rhett nods and his head is too heavy to lift after that and he sags further down towards the floor.

Link sits down next to him. Claps Rhett's sweaty hand in his and pulls their joint hands into his lap. Rubs his thumb over Rhett's.

“Therapy isn't working?”

Rhett leans against Link. Lets his head fall onto his shoulder, despite the way his vertebrates angrily bite into his nerves the moment he does.

“It is. Just– I– we– I don't think we're– it's not looking good.”

“Not good how? Like, you two separating kind of not good or?”

Rhett shrugs again. Touches Link's fingers with his free hand. “Maybe.”

“Has she said that?”

“No, but–”

“Rhett. You can't know that's what she's thinking if you're not talking to her.”

“No, but, I–I– she– m'scared. I don't want her to leave me– she was very young and– we still _like_ each other but– she could realize we shouldn't stay married– and, I don't know–”

Link's breath is warm when he presses a kiss to Rhett's hair and sighs softly. “You're catastrophizing.”

“Yeah, but– and what if _I_ don't love her, I–I– could just, just be scared she'll leave– abandonment issues– she might be better off without me– maybe I _can't_ love, what if I can't even feel love?”

There's a noise that Link makes that goes down Rhett's spine like sparks; small needlepoints that make him purse his lips and furrow his brow. Link laughs and something that stings rushes in and fills the emptiness.

“M’serious!”

Link kisses his head again. Huffs another laugh. “Sorry, I know, but, Rhett, you're in your head too much. And, you know you need to let her– it's not your decision what she wants and feels. You gotta let her decide if she wants to– if she want something else. Don't think you're doing anyone any favors by deciding that you know what's best for our feelings.”

Rhett swallows a few times. The words lodge in his throat. When he manages to say them, they feel as ridiculous as they sound, even though dragging them all the way out into the light is terrifying.

“What if I can't.”

Link shifts besides him. Settles more against Rhett; warm and solid.

“What if you can't what?”

The sounds of his North Carolina accent, that, after the years spent in LA, time has never really scrubbed away, wraps around the 'what’. And it makes Rhett smile; the continuity of it. A constant fixture in an ever changing life. Small parts of his past kept safe with Link, preventing Rhett from aimlessly drifting along with the rapids of his own thoughts constantly trying to take him in new directions.

He clarifies anyway, even if it doesn't seem as monumental or real anymore. “Can't feel love.”

This time Link laughs out loud. Tugs Rhett’s hand along with his own as he presses it to his mouth to stifle the noises.

“Of course you do, ya dingus.”

“You don't know that.”

It makes Link laugh again, and Rhett fights down a smile at how ridiculously petulant he sounds saying it. The clouds cast over his mind part a little; the smile a tendril of sunlight cutting through whatever mist and murk Rhett has allowed to build up in his head.

“Seriously, Link! How would you know!”

Link pushes his arm behind Rhett’s shoulders, making Rhett grunt and shoot him a glare, until he can pull Rhett against his chest and hold him.

“Maybe you can’t love, maybe I was right when I said you didn’t have a love language.”

“Exactly. I just like shiny things and don’t want to be alone.”

“Maybe you’re a crow, not a human.”

Rhett snorts. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Are you feeling better?”

The cold, the numbness, the hollow dark devouring everything it touches stalks the corners of his consciousness.

He shivers.

“Do you– really think I– maybe don’t feel love? For real, I’m not– I’m not joking, m’serious, what if I don’t?”

Link lets go of Rhett’s hand but wraps both arms around him. “I think you’re capable of love, Rhett. And if you aren’t, I don’t know. It seems like you are. And, like, what we do counts more than what we think, or feel, right?”

“Like, our actions, not our thoughts, define us, kind of thing?”

“Sure, yeah.”

The words sink in, settle, and after a moment, Rhett nods. He covers Link’s arms with his.

“I love you,” Rhett says, slowly. Tasting every shape and sound. Repeats it, stronger.

Link kisses Rhett’s temple. “Love you too.”

Rhett feels the warmth of it in his chest. Blooming all the way up to his cheeks. Link’s words slot into place so worryingly perfectly, like nothing else was ever meant to fit there. He pushes Link’s arms away and uses the couch to push himself back onto his feet.

“I’m gonna call Jessie. What matters is what I do, right?” He doesn’t look at Link.

“Right.” There’s a note of confusion in Link’s voice.

“Yeah, okay. Then, I’m gonna do the right thing.”

“You’re– you’re not gonna end things over the phone, right? Because that would be–”

Rhett looks at Link.

“No, of course not. I’m gonna tell her I love her. And I’m gonna show her. And that’s gonna be what matters, not how I might feel about–” He clamps his mouth shut.

“Feel about?”

The hollow has filled with a glow. It hums when he looks at Link and Rhett quickly looks away.

“Never mind,” Rhett says, “I’m just gonna call her.”


End file.
